Under Your Skies
by neverevesangel
Summary: Lavellan searches for Solas in the Fade. Post-Trespasser.
1. Under Your Skies

_In my very first playthrough, Solas got a bit on my nerves. I punched him in the face once. Second playthrough was with a female Lavellan inquisitor, a mage herself. The feels hit me out of nowhere. Translations of elvish phrases are at the bottom.  
_

* * *

**UNDER YOUR SKIES**

She wanders the endless planes of the Fade until the concept of time is but a distant memory. She grows restless. She grows careless.

A demon of sloth whispers to her one day.

_You will not find what you seek, little elfling. Come, lie down. Lie down and rest. Are you not weary in your bones?_

Fatigue settles on her shoulders and she shrugs it off. She cannot shrug off the demons that now shadow her path through the Fade. They are patient. They wait for her strength to forsake her.

_Foolish girl. What are you hoping to accomplish?_

_Lay down. Lay down your burden with us._

_Let us take it from you._

For a time, she fends them off easily. She carries hope in her heart.

Hope slowly morphs into despair. A different type of demon now haunts her waking thoughts.

_You will never find him. He is lost to you now._

Did you truly think you mattered to a god?

They move closer, tightening the circle. Lash out when they dare, bleeding her slowly. She knows she is playing a game of chance.

She makes her stand under a tree hanging upside down where the presence of a spirit warms the air, though it flees as her pursuers close in. Roots rot and leaves turn brown. Icy fingers reach for her. She can sense their anticipation. They have cornered their prey. The hunt is coming to an end.

Trembling in the chill, she kneels down, places her hands on her thighs. Closes her eyes.

_Find me._

She has seen his shadow.

Footprints in the snow.

Stalking.

Following.

Out of sight, always. But she felt his presence. Did he really think she would not notice?

_Come. Find me._

A thin crust of ice covers her hair. Her breath comes in puffs of white mist. She can no longer feel her hands.

She knows he's coming.

_Find me._

There is a whisper in the underbrush. A twig, snapping under the weight of heavy paws. A growl, so low it seems to shake the ground itself.

The demons scatter to the sound of breaking glass, a blizzard of shrieks. She keeps her eyes closed, not needing to see. Fangs rip through fabric and ice.

Then there is silence.

Almost.

She can hear the wind rustle in thick fur.

When he finally speaks, she can hear his voice in her head, achingly familiar, but with an echo that betrays the true extent of his power.

_Garas quenathra, da'len?_

A smile tugs at her lips. She keeps her eyes closed.

_Ma melava halani. Ma serannas._

The sarcasm in her voice is biting.

There is a deep exhalation of breath that could have been a sigh. It washes over her, melting the frost. She relishes the warmth. She had already thought it lost to her forever.

_Your strength is failing._

_So it is._

_You must return to your world. Now._

She listens to him pad through the snow, circling her, but never coming too close.

_You asked why I had come._

His movements halt. Without opening her eyes, she can sense that he is behind her, but watching.

_Well?_

_We need to talk._

A brief pause. Hesitation.

_There is nothing to talk about._

The anger that had consumed her in the days following their last encounter flows back into her all at once. She rises to her feet in one fluid motion, eyes wide open now and whirls around to face him. The wolf returns her gaze steadily.

He is all that she had expected, the size of a bear with dark fur and fangs that struck fear into the hearts of the Dalish for generations. His eyes however she recognises in an instant, a shade of brown that she thought she knew so well. They seemed to soften whenever they fell upon her.

_Tel'abelas_, he says finally.

_Banal nadas_, she reminds him. You said so yourself.

His eyes close briefly and an expression akin to defeat crosses his wolf features. When he opens his eyes again, they are kinder than before. A decision was made. He steps closer.

_Return to your world now. Restore your strength. I will find you in your dreams._

The invitation is unspoken but he inclines his head toward her when she touches his cheek, sinks one hand into thick fur.

_Promise?_

_You have my word, da'len._

She wakes with a dry throat and a headache, one hand grasping her covers as if it was still his fur.

* * *

**TRANSLATIONS**

_Garas quenathra, da'len?_ \- Why have you come, little one?

_Ma melava halani. Ma serannas._ \- You saved (helped) me. My thanks.

_Tel'abelas._ \- I am not sorry.

_Banal nadas._ \- Nothing is inevitable.

* * *

_Want a follow-up? Let me know in the comments._


	2. Only The Winds

**ONLY THE WINDS**

That night, Skyhold is alight with fires and song. All had gathered in the Golden Nug to celebrate the completion of Varric's recent novel on the adventures of the Inquisition. There is even talk of a stage adaptation. She only laughs when they come to ask for her approval.

_Speak with Josie about this. I do not mind._

She watches them play Wicked Grace for most of the evening. At first they try to persuade her to join in, but she politely refuses until even Varric gives up. Cullen is still losing to Josephine and his face grows redder with each round.

It does not take long until she grows tired of the noise and the laughter. She finds Cole upstairs, hiding in shadows as he so often is. He watches her approach and doesn't smile but his eyes hold understanding.

_I miss him, too_, he says in that dreamy voice of his. _I have searched for him in the Fade but he will not show himself to me._

She only nods. They sit in silence for a long while.

When she finally retires to bed, she does so with a heavy heart. Come morning, most of her companions will have left Skyhold, scattered in the wind. Dorian had offered to take her along and show her all of the rotten glory of Tevinter. She'd declined. Skyhold was her home now.

Once, it had been his. Tarasyl'an Te'las, where the sky was held back.

Sleep swallows her whole as soon as she closes her eyes. She comes to in a place where the wind carries the scent of honey and the green-golden glow of sunlight piercing through leaves paints patterns on the ground.

It is no place for wolves and so he has assumed his elven form once more, seated on the root of a tree. Around his neck he still wears the jawbone amulet. A pendant like armour, she had once thought. Now she knows it is his badge of honour.

He rises to his feet as she approaches, his eyes betraying no emotion. She wishes silently for the smile that had sometimes graced his features all those years ago. When Corypheus was still her only concern and kissing him was as easy as closing the distance.

Now she finds herself halt and hesitate. There is a rift between them that she cannot cross.

_Please_, she says. _Vhenan_.

Her words are fire held to a chunk of ice, melting his mask away so that at last she can see that there is pain in his eyes, too.

_Ir abelas_, he gives back quietly, less wolf in his voice than before.

With no words to change his mind, she turns away from him. Presses her eyes shut against the familiar sting.

A hand settles in the crook of her elbow, pulling her back in more than one way. Only a fleeting warmth, it is withdrawn quickly when she faces him again.

_Don't say I told you so_, she says weakly. _How could I have known._

He inclines his head, but whether in agreement or apology she cannot tell. _It would have been kinder._

A heavy silence falls over them until he extends his hand again to touch her shoulder, briefly.

_Walk with me._

She follows him down a path she had not seen before. The forest surrounding them feels oddly familiar.

_Do you remember the first time I brought you into the Fade?_

She nods. Almost smiles. _You showed me Haven, as it was before Corypheus. You kissed me._

The memories had not been locked away as tightly as she had thought. They come flooding back in an instant, carrying a bitter taste where there had once been the flutter-sting of newborn desire.

_Would you rather I hadn't?_

It is a question she had asked herself many times. I would rather I never met you, she wants to tell him. I would rather you had turned away and let the Anchor destroy me.

_No._

The path leads them to a lake of crystalline water. Now she does smile.

_You took me home._

Their eyes meet when he turns to her and for a brief moment, he smiles back. _I thought you might find it comforting._

She dips a toe into the water and it is as cold as she remembers it. _My clan stayed in this area for almost two dozen years,_ she tells him. _In the summer I would come here to swim. I meant to show you, after the war. But then you vanished._

They settle down by the shore, not close enough to touch.

_I was never truly gone, merely out of sight._

_Two years I spent wondering_, she replies bitterly. _I had them search for you but there was no trace._

_I know._

_You took my vallaslin and left me naked for the world. I thought I knew you. I never saw the cruelty._

_I am the Dread Wolf,_ he says simply, as if it explained everything.

_You are Solas, too_, she reminds him. _Or was that also part of your deception?_

He is quiet for a while and when he finally responds, his voice is heavy with regret. _No. I am Solas still._

_Show me._

Her words seem to surprise him. He looks up at her curiously.

She decides then that she has waited long enough for him. Closes the distance, finally. Settles against him, her back to the trunk of a tree. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches around her to pull her closer, more firmly than she had expected and his warmth chases away all of her anger and her confusion. She lifts a hand to trace along the jawbone on his chest and realises it is a wolf's.

_You do not scare me, Fen'Harel._

_Perhaps that is your mistake_, he responds but his tone is light.

_If so, I don't care much._

Half her reply is drowned in a yawn as fatigue finally overtakes her.

He holds her as sleep carries her to a place with no dreams. He holds her, knowing that he has chosen his duty over her long ago. Knowing, too, that he remains unable to let go. He holds her body folded against his and watches the waves gently lapping against the shore.


End file.
